


King and Lionheart

by DecayedDruid



Category: Show By Rock!! - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Crow is still the son of a farmer., Cyan/Retoree is also a ship but so minor it won't be tagged., Everyone but Shingan will be more of minor / background characters., F/F, Just be prepared for a good amount of angst., M/M, Oh they also still have their ears and tails!!, Parental abuse mentions., Rating will go up eventually., Rom and Shu Zo also have drama but it isn't fixed and will not be., Yaiba's a traveling merchant and Rom's a hunter's son.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-05-27 17:19:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15029438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DecayedDruid/pseuds/DecayedDruid
Summary: Farmer child Crow is fated to meet the priest's son named Aion. As nomads, Aion's family is forced to temporarily house themselves with Crow's family for the Winter, who welcomes them with open arms. They grow to be inseparable despite the fact theywillbe separated inevitably. When it happens, a realization comes. Their identities as people have been gained, but at the cost of many of their reasons for happiness.Eventually Aion leaves his religious sect, becoming a runaway, but not before being forced into a mold that he is a prophet whom shares his bodily vessel with their Deity. Deluded and fearful, Aion has no other choice but to leave and not look back. He bands together with a crafty travelling merchant with few words, but many valuable goods--Yaiba.After Crow's mother dies due to a violent illness, he is forced to shoulder his grief whilst watching his father become an emotionally bankrupt abuser. Forced out of his home under the self-given guise of being a burden, Crow has lost all direction until he finds a friend in Rom, a hunter's son who teaches Crow to be strong again.They reunite, and embark on a journey.





	1. -. prologue (--)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GeneralWeylyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeneralWeylyn/gifts).



> Hi, this is a really big project I'm wanting to do, as I haven't written (or properly finished) a multi-chapter fanfiction in a long time! I won't lie, due to current stressors and events in my life, a consistent and stable updating schedule is about as much of a reality as this fanfiction is. Nonetheless, I've loved this fic since starting it, and I have a strong desire to work at it. I hope you'll enjoy it as much as do, and that you'll see my passion in my work!
> 
> I obviously don't own Show by Rock!! / SB69!!, or the characters, it's owned by Sanrio. Alright? Alright.

Life on the farm in his tiny, tiny village was routine. Living there was a guaranteed way to land yourself in a rut. Suffice it to say, Crow was very bored with everyday being the same schedule on a different date. Living this way was absolutely safe… But that was the ordeal Crow had. It was _safe_. Dull. Uninteresting. While comfortable, it was not _desirable_. Familial love was, needless to say, enjoyable. But he wanted so much more. Crow was a small farmer boy at the tender age of eleven-years-old, and there was one, single thing he desired every passing birthday and Yule prior to now. The wish of spontaneity.

‘I want something large in my life to happen. I want a reason to wake up.’

At the entrance of the Winter and Yule season came snowstorms and lit fireplaces. Crow sat in his father’s lap, watching their most recently slaughtered pig roast over the flames. Occasionally the flames would attempt to sate their own appetite by briefly lapping at the meat of the deceased animal. The two-tone haired child hummed softly under his breath, curious as to when his mother would return from tending to the recently birthed calf.

It was born relatively healthy, and although the stalls were filled with food and warmth, it would be absolutely irresponsible to neglect the mother and calf. So they took turns occasionally checking on them and presenting the mother cow and her offspring with company. Of course, Crow had to check on them with supervision due to the nasty weather, but nonetheless…

The child’s thoughts were abruptly cut off by their cottage door slamming open. The wooden door shook on its hinges, and the son and his father turned to inspect the noise curiously. Crow’s mother rushed inside frantically, a bundle wrapped up in her shawl. A couple trailed in from behind, huddled around what seemed to be another child.

They made haste in entering the home before working to shut the door against the blizzard’s winds. Some of the powdery snow had made it into the shelter by riding in on the gusts of wind, and in the end, Crow and his father had to scramble to assist the others in shutting the door. This blizzard was particularly strong, it seemed… But soon enough, the door was shut, and the cold was cut off.

Once the panic and adrenaline had flushed itself out of Crow’s system, he turned to see the newcomers in his home. It seemed to be a husband and wife, both with long, fluffy blonde hair. The woman’s hair was a more platinum tone of blonde, as it blended in more with the melting snow, while the husband’s was more of a honey yellow.

Crow’s crimson eyes gazed at them intensely, bewildered, as his sights moved to the child standing with the couple. He seemed a bit older than himself, even, taller and with a less innocent expression. His memory had entirely omitted the tiny bundle in his mother’s embrace in favor of saying something to this blonde, frizzy haired kid… Until said bundle began crying profusely. The farmer boy damn near leapt out of his skin. By voice alone, he could tell it was a little girl… And she was beyond loud!! Her crying echoed throughout the cottage, and it hurt Crow’s sensitive ears.

Even the girl’s brother seemed none too pleased with the shrill wailing. The adults also appeared to cringe, and both mothers set to work on soothing the freezing, crying child. Maternal instinct carried over to other families and babies, it seemed…

“Shhh, little one, it will be alright…” Crow’s mother cooed, removing her shawl from the girl’s head. The toddler’s mother ran a hand over the equally blonde mane of the child, leaning in a gingerly pressing a kiss to the unruly hair. While the women coddled the distressed child, Crow awkwardly shuffled away from the drafty door, trying to (not so) discreetly join the other men in the room.

In the process of trying to regather, he bumped into the boy that previously, effortlessly stole his entire focus. He almost yelled out of surprise, but caught himself at the very last second. The little girl had nearly calmed down, having been lulled into a near slumber. Crow would receive a likely harsh spanking if he startled the girl with his shrill screaming. The blonde boy made a disgruntled noise at being jostled and shot a rather nasty glare at Crow. It didn’t take a genius to realize he didn’t appreciate the accidental nudge.

“Watch where you’re going,” he spoke lowly, voice laced with venom. It probably would have been intimidating if… If the threat wasn’t spoken _while the boy was posing with his hand in front of his face_. Crow had to reign in his laughter in consideration of the toddler, but couldn’t keep back an atrociously loud snort. The adults turned towards Crow to give him a firm, warning stare. He understandably shrank in apologetic fear. Once the attention was removed from them, Crow turned to the strange child.

If he thought Crow would be scared of him, he had another thing coming. He’d been kicked back by one of the goats before, no kid would scare him! A kid couldn’t hold a candle to the strength of an angry goat. So, naturally, he unintentionally provoked him.

“Why’re you posin’ with your hand in front of your face? It looks stupid, it doesn’t fit you. I’m Crow, by the way, what’s your name?”

The blond boy was taken aback by the blunt question, his expression switching from enraged, to perplexed, to almost a look of resignation. He sighed, begrudgingly removing his hand from his face. He even went to the lengths of placing his hands behind his back, on the stone wall, and resting his bodyweight on them. Crow figured it was a bit excessive, but didn’t want to push the envelope by running his mouth more. The new boy opened his mouth briefly to respond, but then pursed his lips instead.

Crow didn’t even intend to upset the boy he introduced himself to, but it wasn’t unusual for him to piss others off in his miniscule village via running his motor mouth. He simply waited for the newcomer to work up the courage to speak, whether it was seconds or minutes Crow didn’t know or care. Eventually the kid opened his mouth again and granted Crow with a terse reply.

“My name is Aion… Are you the farmer boy we were told who lives here?”

“Yeah!!” Crow beamed, but heard the room fall silent and felt the stern glances on him. It seemed the realm of being quiet was not one he dwelled in. Shrinking meekly again, he offered a hand towards Aion. The boy stared, seemingly thrown off at Crow’s action. Crow blinked dumbly, extending his hand further.

“... You take it,” the child explained bluntly. “... You take my hand. So I can take you somewhere. My room.”

Aion squinted at Crow’s outstretched hand suspiciously, maroon eyes going back and forth from the offered hand to the person it belonged to. Eventually he removed his own hands from behind his body, wincing as he didn’t seem to realize the lack of circulation in his hands until that very moment. Crow barely managed to stifle laughter in the nick of time before Aion took a gentle grasp of his hand.

And that was the moment both tiny children realized this was nothing like any other form of relationship they had crafted yet. The brush of unmarred, smooth skin sent shocks rippling through their small frames, shaking them both to their core. Their gazes met, and they shared that silent visual contact, no one else in the cottage aware of this unfamiliar phenomenon occurring right then. This would be a significant moment in both boys’ lives.

The unspoken oath of, “Our fates are now intertwined. We will never stray from one another.”

Whether either child knew what oath was unknowingly made will never be known, but it was ultimately a promise silently stated then. It would always be treated as such. Too startled to utter another word, Crow had led his new friend to his room with nary a peep.


	2. i. maladaptive reminiscence. (crow)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crow remembers. It's the only way he can make himself be happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY, HAHA. I'm alive!! I'm publishing an update, WHOA. I finally did this, I'm so happy! I think this chapter is longer, too! I am SO sorry this took so long (but, to be fair, I was uh... pretty up front about updates... [sweats]). Anyways, some notes:
> 
> \- Crow is indeed eleven when the story begins. I was thinking by the time he runs away, he'll be about eighteen (because of the amount of years mentioned in this chapter). This will make Aion about twenty-one, since he is three years older than Crow, remember.
> 
> \- This is angst city, you're welcome. (finger guns) Crow has depression and (lowkey content warning) his father is an abusive alcoholic after one point. I am So Sorry. He is a Strong Boi.
> 
> \- Please enjoy fluffy kid!AiKuro, they have the cutest puppy love crushes and I'm not sorry.
> 
> \- The names are mentioned in the chapter because POV may change, so pay attention so you don't get confused!! It's VERY important!
> 
> \- Betsy is best cow. Appreciate her.

Crow could remember the chilly months passing afterwards like they were yesterday. He often lay in his cot and stared up at the ceiling to reminisce. It was often his only happy place nowadays. And so, he visited it as much as he could. Whenever possible, actually. As of now, he was visiting his memories in the stables, but either physical location hardly mattered to him. As long as he could get lost in his head. How he could be happy again and be young once more in the past.

How, after that night, he and Aion were attached at the hip whenever they could be. They talked all that night until they passed out in their respective cots. Whenever Aion's parents called him to the empty grain silo that could no longer be used due to safety issues (as well as the fact foundation issues threatened crop quality, and the coin put into it wouldn't be worth it over simply getting a new silo), Crow hung out a small distance nearby and overheard their verses, psalms, and hymns. He was expressly forbid from following Aion on the nights of rituals, and on those nights, Aion came back seemingly extra exhausted and drained.

Crow worried on those nights. He also felt oddly sad and lonesome on those nights. He wanted his friend, his friend who would just come into their room and curl up onto his cot, facing the wall, and sleep. He never found out why that was.

Aion's family were specifically nomads of a religious sect, they worshiped some deity of a 'dark sun', alternatively known as a 'Black Monster'. Crow had tried to say how silly that sounded when he heard about it during breakfast, because the whole point of the sun was to _not_ be dark, but Aion roughly stomped on his toes and it shut the hedgehog up real fast. It had hurt so bad... He remembered how he went to snap at the fluffy haired teen, but Aion's piercing maroon eyes told him to **_bite his tongue_**. He held such an aura around him, that something told Crow to listen. He did. And how the aura subsided, and he had just silently went back to eating his oats so he could go check on the calf with his mom.

Which had then led to the humorous fact of Aion following Crow into the barn. They wanted to hang out a lot and become close, only of course it'd be inevitable that Aion wander into the barn. He was overly cautious about where he stepped, something about not wanting to become filthy. When Crow initially heard that, he snorted. He remembered the scene so well...

– [ Memoria ] –

“It's a barn, you're supposed to get dirty! It's the whole point of being a farmer, Wimpeon!”

“Crow!” his mother gently chided as they made their way to their heifer and calf's stall, a firm edge to her voice. The eleven-year-old shrank down, but Aion laughed lightly, breathy. Something about it made Crow uncurl a bit, smile and look to him. It felt like the sun was rising in his chest instead of the sky outside.

“No, no, the _rodent_ is quite correct,” the lion said, looking to his farmer friend and smirking mischievously. Crow scoffed and pouted, crossing his arms over his chest, even poking out his bottom lip. “If I'm going to be in the barn, I need to know I'm going to get dirt and... Other things... On me... I did sign up for this, even if indirectly...”

There was a small, amused pause as Crow's mother watched the friendly bickering boys, before she heartily laughed and turned back to the stall. “Alright, boys, c'mon. Betsy and her little girl need their morning grub.”

“And head scritchies!” Crow hollered, tail twitching erratically as he spun to race after his mom. Aion shook his head, a soft and tired sigh puffing from his lips. His own tail drooped lower, a sign of his exhaustion.

“It's so early in the morning, Crow, must you be so insufferably loud...?”

– [ Destituo ] –

He remembered after that, when the Spring came, how sad he and Aion were to separate. They spent Aion's fourteenth birthday together, and that was extra nice. He gave Aion a small choker, in which the part tied around his neck was small, but durable, twine with a silver feather charm. He had gotten his own, also with a feather charm, claiming that it would “keep them together in their own way even when they were still technically apart”. February 10th... And the month after that, he left... And life almost continued as if he was never there. Crow felt it, even though it seemed his parents somehow did not.

His parents went on with farm life right up until mother fell fatally ill. It wasn't quite gradual, but she hid it well until it had her bedridden. Crow knew why she did it, even if it hurt, but it seemed like his dad was just angry about it— _why did his wife have to leave her family_? Crow tried to talk to him about it once, and that got him abruptly slapped. He remembered how harsh that sting was. He remembered the tears running down his face, how weird crying felt when he was normally so loud and happy. He remembered turning tail and rushing to his mother's room, crying into her bedsheets as she weakly, comfortingly stroked his hair.

The hedgehog wished he didn't remember the light dying and rage spreading into his father's reddish-brown eyes as he watched his son run from him, filled with fear and pain.

They were poor. His family was a _farmer_ family. They sustained themselves, and money was not often plentiful in their homestead. It only took Crow the entire winter to save up for Aion's birthday gift. And when they fell ill, they fought it with natural remedies and familial support. … Familial support would not save Crow's mother, as he found the morning when he went to wake her and instead found a husk of who his mother once was. He could not even say she looked peaceful in her deathbed. She overheard the fights as they began to grow between Crow and his father; and how could a mother ever forgive herself for not being able to balance out her family that fell apart between her fingers?

Crow wished she had died knowing it wasn't her fault. Crow wished he could send her off at her funeral with his father at his side, and he also wished that he could send her off with the reassurance that he could at least support and love the one support he would still have.

… But Crow was not a liar, and he was not going to lie to his deceased, beloved mother. His father was not there, and as far as Crow was concerned, his father died with her. The man he now lived with was an emotionally bankrupt alcoholic. Crow's father thought she _abandoned_ them. Thought _she didn't try hard enough_. Crow couldn't change his mind if he tried.

He did anyway at first. And failed. The bruises became plentiful, orchids and purple lilies blooming on his skin where he'd be punched and grabbed. Sometimes he'd bleed, he'd try not to let it escalate to that. He often tried to turn tail—highly unlike him, but he was only caring for himself at this point. He couldn't care for himself if he was beaten bloody.

If it wasn't for the farmer son, the animals would have died off immediately. But they started to pick up on the heavy atmosphere, and depression spread amongst the farm anyway. The animals grew ill, ran away, or died at a slower pace. It took about eight years for most of the stock and crops to die out and leave him and his dad more scavengers than farmers. All Crow had was Betsy and her now older calf, a young bull calf Crow and his mother named Figaro before she died. He visited them often throughout the day as well. He wasn't in the house much anymore unless he was in his room.

… Crow reached out and Betsy nosed into his palm, a comforting gesture. Crow wished it could ease the pain in his chest. He grew confused, however, when Betsy's nose wriggled up further, and he went to question her when—

“Hu—W-wait, don't!! Betsy, STOP!” Crow cried frantically as Betsy ripped his twine bracelet off his wrist, the one that was a set with Aion's. Tears quickly pricked and bubbled in his eyes and he scrabbled to the older cow, confused when she just kept rearing her head up. She wasn't trying to eat it like he thought. Matter of fact, the charm wasn't even in her mouth, sticking out enough that it glinted under the light of the stall. Crow paused and looked at her, and if he didn't know better, he'd think Betsy had a glint in her eye...

'We aren't all you have, you know.'

Crow felt his tail wriggle erratically in panic, the familiar adrenaline still pumping in his veins. It then slowly drooped. He could hear Figaro snort a bit too clearly in the next stall over. His senses were very hyper-aware in this state. As always... He swept the tip of his tongue over his lips to wet them before biting his bottom lip, slowly reaching out a shaky hand. His palm faced upwards, ready to receive the twine and charm.

“Betsy...” he said cautiously, “Betsy honey... Give me that. Please? Please, that's very important to me. I need it.”

Betsy pawed at the ground, even pulling her head **further** away from Crow. He whined, voice high-pitched. He couldn't do this anxiety right now.

“Are you telling me somethin', girl? Is that it? Do you wanna tell me somethin'?” he asked, voice shakier but trying to seem more relaxed. Betsy seemed more receptive to that, lowering her head and snorting, nostrils flaring. Crow tried not to lunge toward the bracelet out of excitement. “Do you... Are you telling me to go find Aion? Is that it?”

Betsy now entirely lowered her head, mostly turning it to the farmer boy. Not entirely though. Crow strained his fingers, but couldn't quite reach. So, so close... Damned Betsy's oddly high intelligence. Except not really, Crow always loved that about her. He grunted, sighing when he couldn't reach.

“Will... Will you give that to me if I say yes, Betsy? Will you do it, girl? Please?” he inhaled shakily, a tear running down his cheek. His chest hurt so much more all of a sudden. It was all of Aion he had, he suddenly felt so cold. “... _Please_?”

Betsy almost seemed to nod. Or did she? Was Crow's mind playing tricks on him? Was he dreaming? Was he just finally fucking going crazy? He didn't care to get into the semantics. He wanted his bracelet back.

“Okay, yes, yes, fine, I'll do it. I'll go find Aion. Please. Please, Betsy. Give me my bracelet back, please, you know I miss him. Please...!” Crow officially hit the point of right begging; the knowledge of how stupid it'd be to chase Betsy around her stall being so agonizing it was felt like it was crushing his diaphragm. All of a sudden Betsy was moving forward, pushing Crow into the wall of her stall, her version of a hug.

The weight was all Crow needed and then some, and he broke, sobbing into her chest as he took his bracelet from her and felt her rest her neck over his shoulder. Something about this, however, felt like a _sign_. He felt a weight slowly cracking and being removed from his chest. His shoulders. His whole body. After he managed to calm down and pull away, Crow walked towards the entrance of the stall door, turning to Betsy.

“But... Wait. What about you and Figar—OH!”

Suddenly a cow head was headbutting his back, shoving him outside the stall. The hedgehog was outright awestruck as he stared at Betsy, pawing the ground and once again flaring her nostrils. He gasped, swallowing deep breaths to get air back in his lungs.

'Ask no questions and just go.'

… He needed this. He gave his lovely cows a thankful but heartbroken smile, and left the barn. It was a brisk Autumn night. Almost Winter. … Funny he'd be leaving this time in the year... All because his best cow friend told him to by scaring him half to death.

It took him less than an hour to have his necessities and leave.

Crow was on a pursuit of happiness. A pursuit of a lifetime.

_A pursuit of Aion._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping to make updates more frequent, but I don't want to PROMISE anything. I hope you all still enjoy! Chat me up on Twitter if you wanna, I'm on mobile more often than not, BUT I'm a LOT more active now!!! @/izumishangrila!


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